


Reward

by thedevilchicken



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnant Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Jorah saves Daenerys' life. Drogo has a reward in mind.
Relationships: Khal Drogo/Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neosaiyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neosaiyanangel/gifts).



> Written for this prompt: _instead of offering Jorah horses for saving Dany, he offers to take him to the bedroom with himself and Dany_. I just took it a bit further and gave the Dothraki a law about saving married people's lives. ;)

None of this was Jorah's idea. 

When he saved the life of Daenerys Stormborn, he didn't expect a reward for it. He thought a reward would be a nice gesture, yes, and back across the sea he could have expected one from a woman's husband. Across the sea, he'd have expected money, or a shiny new sword, or maybe a new title if he'd saved a queen like she was, but he never knew what to expect from the Dothraki. They didn't particularly like him and they didn't particularly trust him, so he slept with one eye open and he kept his wits about him. They didn't like him, and he knew the options that he'd left them with by saving her weren't exactly plentiful. But it seemed Drogo wished to reward him after all. 

Jorah had been long enough in Essos to understand exactly what it was that the khal proposed when he proposed it. He understood the words because when the Dothraki come, when the khalasar sweeps through a village, some of those words are very nearly all they leave behind them, in the stench of blood and death. The Dothraki language has just one word for sex, and it sounds just like an act of violent, claiming penetration. When Drogo bade Jorah join him in his tent later that night, after dark, he thought he knew what to expect. His wife would be here, and Jorah understood the custom. He knew exactly what Dothraki sex looked like.

He knew he couldn't decline unless he wished to flee and leave the Great Grass Sea behind him, and though Jorah Mormont has been many things, he's never been a coward. That night, he went to the tent, and he pulled back the flap and went inside it. Daenerys rose and as Drogo stood behind her, towering above her, as he pulled the robe back from her shoulders with his rough warrior's hands, Jorah saw Daenerys blush. The pale robe fell to the floor at her feet and she was naked underneath it, all pale skin and silver hair with a swell to her belly that Jorah knew was Drogo's child inside her. She was perfect, he thought, and another man's wife. Another man's wife who was offering her to him, because that was the Dothraki way.

"Has anyone explained to you?" Jorah asked her. 

As Drogo stepped away from her, as he left her standing bare there in the lamplight, she nodded. "Yes," she replied. "I understand." 

_Now it's sex_ , he thought. Hands and knees. Rutting, like the khalasar. He wouldn't mind, perhaps, but he thought she deserved more. Drogo came to him. Drogo stood behind him, as he had with his wife, and Jorah raised his arms out to his sides to let him work. As Daenerys watched, Drogo stripped him down to his bare skin, then they both waited for the khal to take his clothes off, too. 

Drogo kissed him. It was straightforward if surprising, with Drogo's hands resting heavy at his shoulders and his mouth pressed firm against his, and Jorah knew that back across the Narrow Sea his father's disappointment would only grow if he could see this. It was nothing at all for the Dothraki - men lay with men when the urge struck, openly, and Jorah knew that. The khalasar outside would think nothing of what their khal was doing, and they all knew what he must be doing. But Jorah hadn't expected a kiss. Perhaps that was something the khal's khaleesi had taught him. 

Jorah, though, whose experience in that direction had been just furtive moments with secretive squires in the grounds of his father's castle, or drunk in tents at tourneys, wasn't used to being watched. It made his face feel hot. It made his cock begin to stiffen. And Drogo wrapped one hand around him, stroked him slowly as Jorah's hands brushed the curve of his arse. His fingertips traced the cleft of it. Drogo pulled back but not away. 

"You want to fuck me or you want to fuck her?" Drogo asked him. There was a wide, amused smile on his face and his cock was half of the way to hard, and he was utterly without self-consciousness. Jorah felt self-conscious. He felt Daenerys' eyes on him, on his skin that was pale where his clothes had stopped the sun and tanned where it was bare to it, on his cock that was flushed and hard and moist at the tip just from that kiss or from the kiss in context, and when he glanced at her, he expected her to look away. She didn't, though the blush on her cheeks definitely deepened. He looked away instead, so she didn't have to. 

"Her," Jorah said. "While you..." 

He gestured rather than say the words and Drogo laughed, low and loud and pleased. He nodded and clapped Jorah on the arms. Jorah hadn't expected Drogo's pleasure any more than he'd expected the kiss.

"Lie down," Drogo told Daenerys, and Daenerys lay down on the furs and hides where the two of them slept, on her back. He'd expected hands and knees; it wasn't that. He was surprised. Damned Dothraki, defying expectations.

"Go to her," Drogo told Jorah, and Jorah went to her. He knelt at her feet and his hands skimmed her calves. He parted her thighs, hitched up her knees, and settled in between them. He looked at her as she lay there, her silver hair spread across her pillow, her cheeks flushed pink and her hands clenched in the blankets. She was beautiful, and his cock ached to be inside her, so he skimmed the insides of his thighs with the palms of his hands and ran one thumb over her lips. He dipped his thumb past them, rubbed at the nub there just beyond and made her gasp. He dipped his thumb lower, and he found she was already wet. When he brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked her wetness from it, her breath caught. Her eyes went wide. She tasted as good as she looked. 

Still kneeling there, he ducked his head between her thighs. He licked the place where her lips met with the tip of his tongue and then he parted them with his fingers, licked a loop around her clitoris then sealed his lips around it and gave a small, experimental suck. She moaned, and Drogo laughed and slapped Jorah's arse, and Jorah felt him kneel behind him. He knew what he'd asked him for - there were rules to this engagement, that all three parties must be involved, so it came as no surprise when Drogo parted his cheeks and rubbed his fingers there against his hole. What surprised him was the slickness of them - he'd half expected Drogo to spit, not slick him up with oil. And as he teased Daenerys with his fingers, as he licked her and sucked her and toyed with the opening of her wet cunt, Drogo pushed one thick, oiled finger up inside him. He pushed one of his own into Daenerys, knuckle-deep. She gasped. Drogo chuckled. Jorah just felt his cock twitch harder.

She was so wet that it was easy to push a second finger into her. He was so tight that when Drogo pushed a second finger into him, it struck him breathless for a second and he breathed there, hotly, in between her thighs. He pushed up onto his knees with Drogo's fingers in him, deep. He knelt between her thighs and as he looked at her, as he watched her squeeze her breasts with both her hands, as he watched her pinch her nipples with her thighs spread wide in front of him, he reached back for Drogo's wrist and and forced him deeper, sharply, then he eased him back and out again. Daenerys reached down then, blushing, her bottom lip between her teeth as she spread herself open for him. His cock hung there, hard, just inches from her. It was so easy for him to nudge it down, and to rub it against her, to press the wet tip to her entrance and rest there for a moment, breathing, steeling himself so he wouldn't come right then and there. And then, leaning over her, slowly, he pushed in right to the hilt. She had her eyes on him as he did it. She had her eyes on him as she moaned out loud from it. 

Then Drogo. As Jorah stayed there, poised, leaning down over her, he felt Drogo move closer behind him. He felt Drogo's big cock against the crack of his arse, felt it rubbing there between his cheeks, felt it press against his hole. He felt himself blushing hotly as Drogo shifted forward, as he felt Drogo's cock start to open him, as he felt Drogo's cock start to penetrate him. It had been years since the last time, since Bear Island, since before Lynesse, and he remembered the long, hot burn of friction, the stretch that made him bare his teeth and hiss a breath in through them. Drogo was perhaps the largest that he'd had, thick and long without a hint of hesitation as he pushed into him. 

Drogo gave a low, contented groan and rolled his hips and the motion pushed Jorah's cock a little deeper inside Daenerys. Drogo took Jorah by the hips and rocked against him, holding firm. Drogo moved in him, the friction of it making Jorah's hairs all stand on end, making Jorah's chest feel tight, making Jorah's cock ache as Daenerys watched him. She knew what was happening, of course, and he should have been ashamed of it, that he was letting another man have him like that, but the look on her face was avid, not disgusted. She brought her hands up to his arms and held on tight as her husband fucked him from behind, his hair hanging down over his shoulder and tickling at Jorah's bare back. She tilted her hips up against him, forcing him in deeper every time that Drogo pushed inside him. It was just like Drogo fucked them both, or used Jorah to fuck her. 

It didn't last for long, of course. Jorah's cock ached, and his breath was short, and when Daenerys slipped one hand down between the two of them to touch herself, when just a minute or two of that made her gasp and shudder and tighten with release, that was the beginning of the end for him. The way her face looked as she did it was almost enough to finish him off all by itself, and he bucked into her, hard, deep, till he couldn't be in any deeper. He Drogo pushed in behind him, thrust in and kept him there, almost pinned against her cunt so every shift of his hips just made him grind against Drogo's cock inside him. And he pulsed in her, hard, groaning, weak, pulling so tight around Drogo that it made him groan with it, too, low and rich and shameless.

He emptied himself inside her, shivering with it all the while. Drogo emptied himself inside him, squeezing Jorah's hips so tight it almost hurt. Then Drogo pulled back and pulled out and patted Jorah's arse with one big hand before he sprawled on his back beside his wife. Jorah pulled out, and he pulled back, and he went back up shakily onto his feet. 

"Stay," Drogo said. Jorah looked at him, lying there naked and unabashed. He looked at him as he leaned over to kiss his wife, to kiss Daenerys whose legs were still resting wide apart, whose cunt shone with Jorah's come. He would have liked to have licked her there again, he thought, and it was almost as if Drogo heard that thought; he trailed his fingertips between her thighs then sucked them clean again. Had Jorah been a younger man, he might have stiffened up again just from that. 

He stayed. Drogo pressed his chest up to his back and draped one arm around his waist and it felt surprisingly comfortable, even when the khal began to snore. And Daenerys, beautiful Daenerys, leaned in to press her lips to his and let him rest his hand over her belly. Jorah knew the child was Drogo's, but he also knew Dothraki custom - he had saved the life of a married woman, and he knew exactly what that meant. He had acted in her husband's place and in doing so, he'd left Drogo just two options: take him as his consort, or else strike him dead. Drogo took him, so the child inside Daenerys will be _theirs_ , not only _his_. 

In the morning, Drogo slicked up Jorah's cock and rode him, straddling his hips. Daenerys watched. She touched herself. Jorah loved the way she blushed. 

In the evening, Daenerys mounted Drogo's cock as he lay stretched out on his back. Jorah sat behind her, naked, pressed against her; he rubbed her in between her thighs until she came. When Drogo sucked him afterwards, Daenerys watched them keenly.

This afternoon after so many others, when Mago challenged Drogo, Jorah took his place in the fight because in Dothraki law it was his right to. The arakh glanced off his armoured breastplate, leaving barely a scratch to evidence the blow. He put his sword through Mago's chest and struck him dead while Drogo watched. No one will challenge the khal for some time, he thinks. They call him _Jorah the Andal_ but he has no wish to go home anymore. His place is with his khal and his khaleesi.

In the tent tonight, Daenerys stands before him, naked, her silver hair hanging down in long, loose waves. Drogo, with his long dark braid, stands there behind her. It doesn't feel like duty any longer when Daenerys touches him and smiles. It doesn't feel like duty when Drogo's thumb brushes his lips and then his hands pull him in closer. 

None of this was Jorah's idea; all he did was save her life because he couldn't bear to see it ended. But he finds that he has no regrets.


End file.
